The Tribrid Slytherin (Draco Malfoy)

Planes

Sorry, I haven't updated in so long I have had two surgeries in the past two weeks so I have been busy.

A small hiss escaped my mouth and my eyes glued shut. While I am unaware, my hand grips a long, dark gray plastic armrest of sorts. Through gritted teeth, I breathe slowly. "Please Godric save me now," I mutter through my teeth.

My skull sticks to the headrest and my bottom feels weighed down to the small seat. Air is released from my lungs in sharp exhales. The feeling in my gut was similar to what I expected of apparition, only worse. The forceful sensation in my abdomen and mind was pulsing.

"Are you alright Pure?"

I ground my teeth together. Opening one eyelid, although keeping it a tight slit, I peered to my left. My father surveyed me warily. His eyebrows furrowed in concern and his eyes were wide and questioning.

"I'm fine." I lied.

"You're not very convincing at the moment. I thought I taught my daughter to lie better." he shook his head. I rolled my eyes and almost scoffed when an abrupt swivel of turbulence caused my hand to grip the armrest tighter.

"Have you never been on a plane before?"

"No. I have not been on this terrifying, shaking, piece of metal before. Why couldn't we have just floo'd? It would've been far more efficient." I groaned. He picked up a small glass filled with alcohol and brought it to his lips. "Because I told you before, I don't trust your weird witchy means of transportation."

"Trust me when I say it would be better than this."

"You can't seriously be afraid of planes. Don't you do anything more terrifying at that horrid castle you call a school? This is ridiculous-

"What is ridiculous is why this hunk of metal is shaking so damn much. Also, there is a reason the Slytherin common room is deep in the dungeons." I huffed. I try to ignore the stabbing pain in my head and turn toward him again. "Where are we going anyway?"

He grimaced slightly, opening his mouth once then closing it. Rethinking. He takes another shot of bourbon and sets it on the tray table. A long pause. He scoffs, "I prefer to leave certain things to the imagination."

I roll my eyes so far back in my head I swear they could swing out of their sockets, "Would you stop being so bloody vague for once in my life and just get to the fucking point." I cringed slightly as I realize the unrefined nature of my statement. If I was in the presence of Mum, she would've scolded the magic out of me. But with Dad, I didn't need to worry about how crude and expletive my words were. He practically taught me the whole language, to my mother's displease.

He chuckled, coughing up the expensive bourbon, and wiping his upper lip with the sleeve of his grey shirt. "Alright, if you put it that way little wolf, I'll tell you." He adjusted his position in the upper-class seat, crossing one leg over the other.

"I'm taking you to my original home." he sighed, and although the potential migraine was buzzing the interior of my brain I could tell he was oddly...happy. Almost like he was avoiding a greater issue. He was casting away whatever problem was sizzling in the great Mikaelson cauldron. But I shook it off, bit back my need to make a comment, and forced out the question curiously. "And where might this place be?"

"Mystic Falls, Virginia."

***

I opened the grey car door and stepped onto the concrete driveway. The moment my shoes touched the ground a bizarre shiver ran through me. A strange but familiar scent wafted past my nostrils like an immense amount of perfume.